


All Troubles at an End

by arkadianmouse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkadianmouse/pseuds/arkadianmouse
Summary: “Sometimes,” the prince starts. “Sometimes, I wish I were a cat.”It has been five years since Otabek, guardian and companion of a missing prince, was exiled from his kingdom. After receiving a mysterious sign, he returns in an attempt to solve the disappearance of his beloved childhood friend. To do so, he must travel to the realm of fairies, solve three impossible challenges, and gain the trust and help of an ill-mannered— yet familiar— white cat.Based on the fairy tale "The White Cat."





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I am set on writing only fairy tale AUs from now on. I knew I wanted to do something with Yuri and Otabek, and finally came across a fairy tale called "The White Cat" that is very similar to "The Golden Bird," one of my favorite tales when I was young. The story also shares a similar structure to "The Frog Princess", but this version has… you guessed it, a white cat! 
> 
> I also extended the story a lot more to include other characters and a journey structure to correct a flaw in my last fairy tale AU, which was the amount of time the characters were given to fall in love. I hope this makes up for that!
> 
> Title is an altered line from Andrew Lang's version of "The White Cat."
> 
> Part II will be up shortly.

_Yurochka…_

An endearment, sweet to the tongue. The only name he was ever given by the king.

_Beka_ …

His own name, shortened for the ease of childhood. He would give this to the prince, just like he would give his life.

_Should have given his life_ …

Those steel blue eyes, sharp like the men he saw return from battle. Sharp like the sword at his hip.

_Gone_.

-✽-

Otabek woke with a start. _Five years_ , and he still had dreams like these, even if their frequency had abated. It had been five years since he was tasked with guarding and guiding the young prince through childhood.

Though the court had felt he was unsuited to the task, still quite a few years from adulthood himself, King Nikolai had fought to bring Otabek the role of prince’s guard. The king thought that the prince should still feel the wonders of his young age, and an older guardian might damper his youthful spirit. Thus, Otabek Altin, squire to the most famed knight in the land and on a trajectory for knighthood himself, had been appointed to the task.

Otabek sat forward in his bedroll and glanced at his hand, barely visible in the dark of the wood. When he met the prince for the first time, he could barely keep his hands from shaking as he bowed low, intimidated by the prestige of the steel-eyed boy.

The feeling of intimidation had not lasted long; the prince was entirely different around his grandfather, King Nikolai, away from the derisive eyes of the court. And Otabek got to witness his joy first hand, for at least a year—Prince Yurochka, beloved by the kingdom, esteemed by the court, always laughing at the sound of his own name on Otabek’s tongue.

Then, the prince’s hand would find his own, whisper, _Come, Beka_ , and pull him out to the garden, where they would play at soldiers. At thirteen, Otabek had seen his master return from battle several times already, and knew there was no joy to be found in the real thing. Even still, he wanted the prince to have his fun.

Otabek did not remember when the prince stopped existing. He did not remember if it had happened in the garden, or at night, while Otabek slept in the room next to the prince’s.

He just knew that it happened, and within the week after the prince’s disappearance, he was driven from the kingdom for failing at his duty. Sick with the loss, Otabek had traveled well beyond the kingdom these past five years, searching for those in need of assistance.

Someone once told him his type was called _knight-errant_ , those in search of a quest to prove their worth. Otabek didn’t need the search, though; he knew he had worn out his worth long ago, when he lost his prince. If he were ever to be worthy again, he would need—

A rustling in the wood brought him out of the cloud of his memories. Otabek glanced around and saw that dawn was beginning to break around him, and as he lifted his head to seek the sun, he caught movement in his periphery. Turning his head to glance fully to the side, he saw the glimmer of a white cat in the underbrush.

But that… that could not be right. Otabek was far from the last town, still far from the town he sought, and cats did not live in the wild. They were domestic things, used by merchants and farmers to catch rats, and court ladies for company. Otabek rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes and when he looked again, the white cat was gone.

Otabek’s laugh caught in his throat. Maybe his sanity was finally fleeing him. First his prince, now this cat… good things always did tend to leave.

_If this were a sign, though_ … Otabek wondered what he should do. Lingering for a brief moment, he packed up his bedroll, loaded his saddlebags, and mounted his horse. With one last moment of consideration, he guided his steed in the direction of his old kingdom.

-✽-

Otabek was not surprised that the kingdom did not remember him. He was surprised, however, to enter and find memories of his dear prince everywhere. It seemed the kingdom had not forgotten their missing prince, and at every turn as he made his way to the castle, a new voice rang out with some theory about the disappearance.

“The anniversary is coming up,” one vendor said to him as he purchased oats for his horse.

“Anniversary?” Otabek asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, not a local then? Well, I’m still surprised you don’t know! You see, our prince was tragically taken by the Fair Folk, who were jealous of his beauty!”

“No, he’s being hidden from our sight to punish us for our wickedness!” Said an elderly man near the stand. “He walks the streets among us, but can never speak to us!”

Otabek’s heart quickened as another voice chimed in, claiming, “The prince was murdered five years ago, by assassins from a far-off kingdom! Nothing more to it!”

“Thank you,” he passed a coin to the vendor and left for the castle’s gates, hoping that he would be able to get an audience with the king. The rumor mill had not stopped churning in his absence; but he had heard far worse than those when he was younger.

King Nikolai, after all, had wanted him to stay.

“You were like family,” he had said. “Yurochka cared so deeply for you. When he returns, he will be sad if you are not here.”

But Otabek had fled. Not because the court stared at him like he was at fault, or even because one rumor had started that he had murdered the prince, seeking to take the throne for himself. It was because of King Nikolai’s blind hope, so painful to him against the truth that the prince was no longer by his side; would never be at his side again.

Now, though, Otabek felt hope rekindled. He wasn’t sure what that cat had meant to him, why it had inspired him to return.

Perhaps the king would know.

-✽-

He had barely made it through the gates when a voice rang out. “Altin?”

Otabek turned and saw Yakov, the king’s right hand and advisor. Yakov had always been kind to Yurochka and, by extension, was a little tough on Otabek, who held the prince’s life in his hands. When the prince went missing, however, Yakov had been one of the few in the court not to take it out on Otabek, claiming that he knew the true reason behind the prince’s disappearance. If he had shared it with anyone beyond the king, Otabek did not know.

Yakov was now racing towards him, and when he finally neared he grabbed Otabek’s arm and tightened his grip like a vice. “What are you doing here, boy?”

Otabek, who had reached adulthood during his travels, bristled. “I’ve come to see the king.”

“His business is my business now,” Yakov said. His face, which had been twisted into a grimace, softened. “King Nikolai is no longer in power.”

Otabek startled back, pulling out of Yakov’s grasp. He went for his sword. “You—”

“Not I, no,” Yakov said. “It was the court’s decision. King Nikolai is a strong man still, but they claimed that grief made him weak. He is confined to his chambers while they rule in his place.”

Otabek lowered his arms in defeat. “I had wished to speak to him about the prince.”

“Do you have information about Yurochka?” Yakov asked, ushering Otabek down the hall. They entered a room not far from the courtyard where he and the prince had played in their youth. Otabek glanced at it longingly before closing the door behind them.

“I do not have any information, but I wish to offer my aid in the quest to find him. Surely something has come to light in these years? I know you always said—”

“Yes,” Yakov said. “I know what became of the prince. And you are correct, in recent years I believe some evidence has emerged of his hiding place.”

“He is… hidden?” Otabek’s pulse raced, but he kept his face level.

“Yes. Within the fairy realm.”

Otabek couldn’t help the defeated feeling that filled his veins. “Yakov, not you too—”

“It is no falsehood. Within a week of Yurochka’s disappearance, not a day after you left us, a ring of moss emerged in the courtyard, where you two used to play. I believe it’s the entrance to the fairy realm, where Yurochka slipped away from us. Where he was taken from us.”

Otabek bit back his first instinct of doubt. “By whom?”

“I do not know. I only know what lies beyond the ring; I received a message from there once, in a dream. I could not make the journey, though, and only know that Yurochka was taken by the Prince of Cats.”

The word was a shock to Otabek’s system. It must have shown on his face, and Yakov peered at him with interest. “What do you know?”

“I—The reason I came here was because I saw a cat in the wood. It reminded me of my time here, somehow… it reminded me of… him.”

“Then you received the message too. Perhaps you can make the journey where I could not.”

_It_ had _been a sign_. Otabek felt the presence of the courtyard behind him, his and the prince’s playground, the tug of memory. _Could I save him_?

If there were any chance, Otabek would take it. This was his quest.

“Tell me what to do.”

The fairy ring was a dark circle in an otherwise bountiful garden, a sinister realm of dark grass, inside of which nothing grew. Otabek brushed a careless palm against a tea rose that grew as tall as his waist.

“Leave your horse and possessions,” Yakov instructed, as Otabek prepared to enter the circle. Dusk was rapidly approaching, casting long shadows throughout the courtyard. They had managed to stay hidden from the court this long, but Yakov claimed it was only a matter of time before they discovered his presence and had Otabek driven out again.

Otabek reached to disassemble his scabbard from his belt, but Yakov stopped him. “You may need that where you are heading.”

Otabek nodded and stepped into the circle. He glanced back at the king’s advisor.

“How does it work?”

Before Yakov could answer, there was a commotion at the end of the courtyard. Otabek took a knee, hidden among the flowers, and Yakov turned away from him.

“Stay there,” he commanded, and then left. Otabek listened intently at the deep voices, but could not make out what they were saying. He stayed still until the voices faded, the light from the sun dimming at last. The courtyard fell silent, and dark.

All at once, the scent of the flowers began to overwhelm him. He hazarded a cough, feeling that it would suffocate him otherwise. He could see nothing, and hear nothing, and before long the heady sweetness of the flowers that surrounded him overtook him completely.

-✽-

_Yurochka_ … His grandfather’s name for him, so whenever Otabek calls for him he finds quiet laughter in response.

“Beka,” the prince says, his face so still as the laughter fades. Perhaps Otabek is becoming a bad influence. “Come here.”

“What have you found, my prince?” That seems to be better, and the prince turns to him with a look of calm adoration. He is kneeling among the roses, his arms cradled around something with great care. In the summer sun, his cheeks are flushed a rosy pink, and his hair is fairer than it was months ago. Otabek thinks he is beautiful.

As Otabek approaches, he sees that the prince has found a kitten, its fur dark as pitch. “Oh,” he says.

The prince holds out his hand and Otabek takes it, unthinking. The prince brings Otabek’s hand closer to him, and Otabek’s heart races. He knows that his cheeks are flushing, and wills himself to stop. The prince splays his warm hand across the back of Otabek’s own and presses it into the kitten’s back, and Otabek cannot help but smile. That frightened look that the prince sometimes gets in his steel eyes abates a little, and Otabek worries about what in this moment put it there in the first place.

_Yurochka_ , Otabek thinks, but cannot bring himself to break the silence.

“Sometimes,” the prince starts. “Sometimes, I wish I were a cat.”

“Why, my prince?” Otabek’s voice cracks, and as the prince’s mouth curls around a chuckle again he flushes bright red. But the prince never laughs for long, and his hand is still warm on the back of Otabek’s own. Together, they lavish the kitten with affection.

“See?” The prince says. “He is loved.”

“So are you,” Otabek says, speaking the truth. He has never known a prince to be so admired by his people.

“But this kitten does not need to do anything for that love. I have…” The prince looks sullen, old beyond his ten years. Otabek leans closer. “I have responsibilities. I must earn the love my people have for me.”

“That is not true,” Otabek says.

“Isn’t it, Beka? They are _told_ to love me, because I will do great things for them. That is why. I will never be loved simply because I am… _me_. Not like this cat.”

The prince turns to him, and Otabek finds that they are closer than they’ve ever been before. “Isn’t that right, Beka?” The prince’s voice is a whisper, but the words ring loud in his ears.

Otabek doesn’t understand why he feels like a coward; he pulls away. “You have your grandfather’s love, my prince. It is wholly unconditional.”

The prince stares into his eyes for a moment, and his face grows hard. Otabek’s heart breaks in that same moment.

He stands, and Otabek is left to look up to him; the way it should be. “Let us go, Beka, and find this kitten some milk.”

The prince begins to walk towards the kitchen, and Otabek feels him slip away.

-✽-

Otabek startles, the dream falling from him fast. He had forgotten all about that moment in the garden, only a few months after he had begun to work for the royal family. Only a few months before the prince would disappear. He had not realized before the prince was already leaving him in that moment.

Otabek looked around and found he was still in the fairy circle. Yakov had been wrong about his ability to travel between realms, then… It did not matter what had become of the prince, because Otabek would never be able to get him back. He slumped forward in defeat, but as he closed his eyes he heard a loud clatter.

He raised his head and, before him, he saw a large black cat. He released the frustrated breath he had been holding in his chest and a smile curled his lips. Could it be?

Otabek began to fully take in his surroundings and, fairly immediately, realized he was not in the castle at all. Or at least, he was not in King Nikolai’s castle, but a castle built of ornately detailed silver and gold. The flowers that surrounded the fairy circle had been coated in a fine gold dust, and the grass he lay on was lace-like and glittering.

He looked again at the cat before him and saw not one, but many. They adorned the steps to the castle’s entrance like ornaments, leisurely watching him as he stood and made his way to the gates. If the layout were anything like King Nikolai’s castle, he needed to make his way to the throne room and see who lay claim to this realm; surely, the Prince of Cats?

The black cat ran ahead of him, and as he passed each cat it let out a yowl or a hiss. Otabek didn’t feel fully threatened, however, and was instead captivated by the detailed beauty of the castle. He moved throughout it by memory, and before long he found himself at the entrance to the throne room. With a steadying breath, he opened the doors.

Within the room there were dozens more cats, and Otabek almost felt like laughing; never before had he seen so many! He thought briefly of his prince, and the dream he had awoken from, and wondered if he might be among them. Had his disappearance been the fulfillment of a wish? Otabek dearly hoped his prince had not left him for… this.

“Who are you?”

Otabek nearly startled out of his skin at the voice. He glanced around the room for the man who had spoken, but saw no one. His eye caught the throne in the center of the room, however, and the cat that sat upon it.

This one seemed different than the others, slightly larger, with a coat as fine as snow. Otabek turned to look more carefully at it and—surely a trick of the eye, but—he thought that the fine hair of the cat shimmered like gold.

Otabek began to approach the cat and heard the voice speak again.

 “It is polite to answer when someone asks you a question.”

Otabek glanced around the room again. “I apologize, but I do not know who is speaking to me.”

“Well, you were looking right at me!”

The childish tone of the retort was almost as shocking as the revelation that it was coming from the cat on the throne.

“You?”

The cat flicked its tail. “Me?”

“Are you—” Otabek cleared his throat. “The Prince of Cats?”

“No,” the cat said, staring Otabek down.

“So you’re not—I’m sorry, I can’t tell if you’re being facetious or not.”

The cat stretched leisurely, and jumped off the throne. “I’m not. Just keeping it warm. My name is Yuri.”

“Yuri…?”

“Do cats not usually have names where you’re from?”

“I supposed they do but… well, I’ve never had one tell me their name before.”

The cat—Yuri—paced around him, heading for the door. Otabek glanced around the room once more and decided to follow him. He needed answers.

“Listen,” he started. “I need to find the Prince of Cats. Can you take me to him? I need to find someone.”

“There are many ‘someones’ in this world. How do you know the Prince of Cats has yours?”

“He left a message for—he claimed responsibility for the disappearance of Prince Yurochka. Do you know of him?”

Yuri leaped onto a statue near Otabek so he could stare him down again.

“The name sounds familiar, but I do not believe the Prince of Cats would have taken him. Have you investigated the other courts?”

“Other courts?”

“Yes, the Fair People do have a storied history of taking humans to their own realms. I know of one in particular who is notorious. If you are looking for a prince, the bastard may know exactly who has him, if he wasn’t the one who took him.”

Otabek was troubled by the sound of a pejorative coming from the mouth of a cat, but shook it off. “Well, where can I find him?”

Yuri regarded him. “I can take you to him.”

Otabek hesitated. “And your price?”

“When our journey is complete, I will ask you for a favor.”

“Only one?”

“One only.”

Otabek considered it. “If I find my prince, I will grant you one favor.”

Yuri jumped down. “It is done. Come, he resides in the neighboring kingdom. We may get there by next nightfall.”

-✽-

_Yurochka_ …

_The prince, grinning with a child’s wonder as his kitten—approaching cathood— chases a butterfly through the roses. Yet even as Otabek watches him, the child’s face is growing hard with age, with responsibility._

_And as Otabek wonders what it is he can do to help, he finds a hand slipping into his._

“Beka?”

Otabek whirls up from his position on the soft grass, where they had made camp for their first night on the road. That voice had not been a part of his dream—but even as he retreated back to a sitting position, he knew that it had been. That had been his prince’s voice, and he had not found him. Not yet.

“Trouble sleeping?” The voice of the cat. Otabek turned toward it and found golden eyes watching him, the glimmering white of the cat’s tail making trails in the long grass beside him.

“Just a dream. Did you…”

Judgment flashes hot in Yuri’s eyes, and Otabek turns away. He will not be laughed at by a cat.

“Never mind.”

 “You dreamed of your prince, then?”

Otabek only sighed.

Yuri _tsk_ -ed, an odd sound for a cat to make. “What is he to you?”

Otabek shriveled under the golden gaze. “It was long ago… It was my duty to protect him, and I lost him.”

 “You don’t act like he was just a job.”

“No,” Otabek said. “He was my friend.”

“Did you love him?”

Otabek flushed. “I don’t see—”

Something rustled in the dark trees that grew around them. Otabek’s hand flew to his side, only to find that his sword was gone. He glanced back at the cat, pink mouth open in a devilish grin.

“You—”

“I need it more than you do,” Yuri said, and if Otabek had been prone to act out he might have screamed with frustration. As far as he knew, cats had no use for swords.

 “I cannot protect us if—”

“You will not need it where we are going. You are under my protection.”

Otabek wondered at what a small cat could protect him from, but he did not feel like arguing with Yuri any longer.

Dawn broke quickly, and they resumed their journey. As they travelled, Otabek found that it was he who had to keep pace with Yuri. The cat weaved effortlessly through the wood, and Otabek gracelessly attempted to follow him. The realm looked so much like home, but before long the wood grew dark and covered in frost. Although Otabek’s breath was visible in the cold air, he felt no chill.

“What?” He asked with wonder, as the hemlines of his clothes began to turn brittle with frost. Still, his skin was warm to the touch, and he even felt flush.

“I told you,” Yuri said, “you are under my protection.”

Soon they had reached a giant arching gate, as thin as ice and almost as ornately designed as the palace Otabek had found Yuri. He reached out a tentative hand to open the gate, but a yowl stopped him. He looked down at Yuri.

“Beyond this gate, you will find the Fair King of Ice... _Victor_. He thinks he is a comic, but he is just a fool. Still, he has great power and knowledge over who enters these lands. He will be able to find your prince.”

Otabek’s heart quickened and he looked back at the gate, trying to peer beyond it.

Yuri swatted at his leg, claws out, and Otabek startled and looked back at him.

“Listen to me,” the cat said. “I cannot enter his kingdom. Whatever he asks of you, you will agree to. I will help you in any way I can.”

“What will he ask of me?”

“I only know that he will be immensely frustrating when he does ask. Think you can handle it?”

Otabek thought back to the past day or so and looked meaningfully at Yuri. “I think so.”

He thought that would earn him another swat, but it seemed that the cat’s face softened with his words.

“Remember,” Yuri said. “I am on your side.”

“I… thank you.”

The cat turned away from him. “But also remember, I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for my favor.”

“Of course,” Otabek said with a smile, and he slipped past the shimmering gates and into the realm of Fair King Victor.


	2. Part II

The moment he passed through the gate, he felt the chill. Otabek looked back over his shoulder but found that the gates were shut tightly, and he could not find Yuri on the other side. He could only go forward.

He came upon the palace quickly, the cold biting at the back of his throat with each breath. Instead of slowing his approach, however, he ran to the doors and pulled at the handle; a large, snarling dog’s head, clamped around a gold ring.

“Hold on,” a voice said from inside, before the door swung open and revealed a pale young man, jet black hair curled around his countenance.

“Let him in,” another voice called, and both Otabek and the man looked into the foyer, where a man inundated in furs lurked quietly. His face was shockingly beautiful, pale eyes framed by sleek white bangs. He spoke again, “Our knight is here for a very noble reason indeed.”

Otabek felt the absence of his sword keenly. “You know who I am?”

“I know what you want.”

The chill of the palace was seeping into Otabek’s veins. “Then you have him?”

“Not I, no,” Fair King Victor said, and with a sweeping gesture of his arm he ushered Otabek in. “Yuuri will show you to my rooms.”

In the next moment, he was gone, dematerializing into the air. The name he had spoken rang in Otabek’s ears, and for a moment he almost glanced at the ground to see if Yuri really had followed him in.

“This way,” the dark-haired man spoke, the barest glimmer of a smile on his face. “You are not from here, are you?”

Otabek followed him down the shimmering passage; it mimicked the palace of the cats, but instead of the tint of gold upon everything, there was a sheen as bright as the first snowfall. “No.”

“What is the world like now?” The man—Victor’s Yuuri, then—continued, and Otabek glanced at him. He was pale, indeed, but not as much as the Fair King. And although he did not shiver as Otabek did in the cold, all at once Otabek understood this man to be human.

“You were taken?”

“No,” Yuuri said, his smile growing wider. “I was in love. Victor helped me when no one else would, and when my time on earth was over I gladly followed him here.”

“But you are… living.”

“I am in a half-state, neither fairy nor human.” The man slowed and gestured to a door. “I am happy though.”

Was this where his prince had ended up, then? Like this Yuuri, serving an immortal life in a land far from his home? This man looked happy, but Otabek missed too much the warmth of the sun, the earthy smell of the garden—and he knew his prince would miss it too.

Otabek entered the chambers of Fair King Victor still grimacing at the thought. It was in that moment that he remembered his Yuri’s warning about the challenges. He shook the thoughts of his prince away and set himself in reality.

“You must tell me what has become of Prince Yurochka,” he said, steeling his voice against the tremors that wracked his body. Victor observed him with silent eyes for a moment, and then grinned, his teeth flashing white.

“To recover your dear prince, you must fulfill three challenges for me. I will give you the first now, and if you complete it, I will deliver you the next. Do you understand?”

Otabek swore under his breath. “No. If you have the power to bring him back, why won’t you?”

Something in the king’s face softened, his sharp grin smoothing over. “His curse is not mine to break.”

“Then whose is it?”

“You will learn soon enough, dear knight. Are you ready to receive the first challenge?”

Otabek thought back to Yuri’s promise of aid. He nodded.

“Very well, then. I seem to have misplaced a very beloved possession of mine—my dog.”

“A pet?”

Victor’s sharp eyes flashed. “He is very dear to me… and _very_ unique. The most beautiful little dog you shall ever meet. I do hope you will know him when you see him.”

Otabek willed his frustration to abate. “That’s all you will give me.”

“I do hope you find him soon. I dare say your prince does too.”

Otabek whirled around to leave the chambers before he acted irrationally. Now he understood the warning Yuri had given to him. He dearly hoped the white cat might be able to offer him aid.

“When you return,” Yuuri said to him as he escorted him to the exit. “You should wear this.”

He was holding a hefty fur cloak, and Otabek reached for it gratefully before he could think to refuse it. “Thank you,” he said honestly.

“Victor can be trying,” the man said. “But he means well. He truly wishes to see your prince returned; when souls do not belong in this realm, they come to him for help.”

“So he truly did not take my prince?”

“No… it was another.” Yuuri glanced around, as though searching for an eavesdropper. “The Prince of Cats.”

Otabek sighed. “I was warned as such. But you swear that your king can help?”

Yuuri nodded. “He has been given a challenge, too.”

Suddenly, Otabek found himself at the gate he had entered through, and pushed his whole weight forward, wishing only to see the little white cat in that moment.

-✽-

“And how was it?” Yuri asked, his tail weaving through the air leisurely. Otabek collapsed before him, exhausted by the events that had just taken place. He burrowed into his new cloak, knowing that it could be no more than an hour past nightfall, but ready for sleep.

“Strange, to say the least.”

He wasn’t sure how it was that the cat could click its tongue so clearly. “I told you so.”

Otabek felt the smile pull at his lips. “You did.”

His eyes had already drifted closed, but he was aware of the warmth of the cat as he lay beside him. When Yuri spoke next, it was right against his face.

“Will you dream of your prince tonight?”

Otabek was too tired to react. “Perhaps.”

“He must have been very beloved to you.”

“He was.”

“And yet you never speak his name.”

Otabek was silent.

“Names have power. Have you never called to him?”

“I cannot. I will find him, but I know I forfeited my place at his side long ago.”

“Why is that? Because you let him go?”

“Because I made him hurt.”

Yuri inched closer, the weight of the cat’s head a welcome pressure on Otabek’s throat.

“What did you do to him, knight?”

Otabek felt sleep begin to take him, but he let slip the answer. “I loved him back.”

-✽-

Otabek finds the prince in the garden, grinning with a child’s wonder as his small black cat chases a butterfly through the roses. He thinks about calling out to him, but in the next moment, the prince turns and catches Otabek’s eye, and his smile fades.

Otabek thinks about running. He cannot stay away.

“My prince,” he starts, but the boy turns away.

“I know you know what my grandfather spoke of this morning.”

Otabek flushed. “I try not to listen…”

“But you would know anyway.” The prince sighs. “ _Responsibility_. I hate the word.”

Otabek smiles. “You would hate anything that drove you indoors, away from the sun.”

The prince held out his hand. “It’s driving me away from _you_ that I take issue with.”

For the first time in a long time, Otabek did not take it. “Yurochka…”

The prince scoffed. “A child’s name.”

 “You are a child.”

“So are you!”

“I—” Otabek hesitated. “Not anymore. _I_ had to grow up, and now it’s time for you to.”

 The prince’s face contorted with anger. “How could you. You sound just like them.”

“I had to grow up to protect you. I had to be stronger! Children cannot protect the ones they love! I—” Otabek froze when he realized what he had just revealed.

The prince looked up at him with wide eyes. “Beka…”

“My prince,” Otabek sighed. “You must forget what I just said.”

“How can I?” The prince stood up, took Otabek’s hands in his. “How can I when I feel the same?”

“Stop.” Otabek pulled away.

“They’ve gotten to you, haven’t they?” The prince scoffed. “Said because I’m a prince, it wouldn’t be… Well, you know I don’t care about all that!”

“And you should know, I do,” Otabek said. He turned on his heel. “My prince… I cannot serve you like this. I am only putting you in danger.”

The prince grabbed his arm and pulled, grabbed hold of Otabek’s face. “Stop it!”

Panicking, and knowing he was losing the only thing he’d ever wanted, Otabek slapped the prince’s hands away.

“It would have been better if I’d never met you,” he said, heading straight for his quarters, entirely prepared to leave the prince behind for good.

The last sounds he heard were the prince’s cries: “Beka! Beka!”

-✽-

“Beka.”

Otabek opened his eyes cautiously and saw slivered gold ones staring right back. He sighed and shifted up, the white cat jumping off his chest.

As he breathed in the crisp morning air, the name registered in his mind.

“What did you call me?” He cried, searching for Yuri. The cat paced around him, and Otabek could have sworn it was laughing.

“You talk in your sleep, prince. Is it your name? It is not your prince’s.”

“You will not call me that.”

“Very well, Otabek Altin.”

It was then Otabek knew the cat was playing with him. Yet he also knew he would pay any price to bring his prince back.

“The challenge, cat.”

“Cat, now? Very well. Share with me what the challenge was, and I will solve it for you.”

Otabek shared what Victor had tasked him with, and Yuri ran into the brush.

“I should have known,” the cat’s voice rang out, shielded from sight. “Here he is.”

Yuri emerged with a whole acorn in his mouth. Otabek placed his head in his hands in defeat.

“I cannot believe I trusted you.”

“You are a very rude knight. I may tease you, but have I led you astray yet? Take the acorn.” Yuri pushed it forward with a careful white paw.

“Gently, now,” he spoke, as Otabek brought it up to inspect it. “Now, listen.”

Otabek held it to his ear. Inside, faintly, he heard something knocking around, and then, “ _Wan-wan._ ”

Otabek pulled back and let out a shocked laugh. “I don’t believe it. I c _an’t_ believe it.”

“The idiot left it at the Palace of Cats last time he was there. The most beautiful little dog in the world, little enough to fit inside an acorn. And beautiful—well, I suppose if you were someone who _liked_ dogs.” Yuri seemed to be inspecting his paw casually, waiting for a word from Otabek.

“Yuri,” he said. “Yuri, thank you.”

He took Yuri’s paw and brought it to his lips, kissing the cat soundly in gratitude. Yuri pulled back and began to pace around him.

“Y-You’d better hurry; if you return before noon we might be able to get the next challenge out of the way.”

“Of course,” Otabek said with another laugh, and wrapping his cloak around him tightly, he entered the icy kingdom once more.

-✽-

Victor was delighted to have his beloved “Makkachin” returned to him, and as he kicked up his legs and cooed at the little dog in the acorn, Otabek received a grateful nod from Yuuri.

“I hate to interrupt,” he said. “But I am eager to complete the second challenge.”

Victor’s smile grew sly once more, and Otabek bit back a groan. “Of course, dear knight. I find that I have misplaced my handkerchief. It was so fine and rare, I could pass it through the eye of a needle. Would you find it for me?”

Otabek tried not to feel the impossibility of the challenge, knowing that he had the white cat on his side.

“I will return shortly,” Otabek said, and without further comment, he raced back to the gates.

“Yuri,” he called, when he had made it across the threshold and had searched the wood for the little white cat. Yuri emerged before him finally, white coat glistening with the gold sheen Otabek had seen once before. Otabek was almost taken aback by his beauty.

“It worked,” he said with a smile, and Yuri sat back and preened.

“Of course,” he said. “Now, the next challenge.”

Otabek explained, and Yuri sat patiently in thought for a moment.

“You will have to wait here for a moment,” Yuri said. “It will be cold when I leave; do you have your cloak?”

Otabek pulled it tightly around himself, but held out a hand to Yuri before the cat left. “Wait,” he said.

“I will be back. Please,” the cat said, and Otabek hesitated at the tone. “Just think of your prince, and before you know it I will have returned.”

Otabek bit back a smile at the request, which just seemed silly—his prince was always on his mind. Still, Otabek sat with his back to the gate, and waited.

It was nearly dark before Yuri returned, a large walnut clasped in his sharp white teeth. Otabek knew better than to doubt this time, but still found it hard to believe that the nut was the solution to his problems. He moved to crack it open, but instead yelped when Yuri brought his teeth down on Otabek’s hand.

“Don’t,” the cat scolded. “Wait until you are in the king’s presence, and then you may crack it open to reveal the handkerchief.”

“I will,” Otabek said as he tucked the walnut away and rose to enter the kingdom. Yuri let out a sound and Otabek turned back to him. “What is it?”

“The Kingdom of Ice is a different place after dark. Dangerous. You cannot go alone.”

“Then come with me.”

Yuri hesitated. “I cannot. Will you not wait the night out with me?”

“Yuri,” Otabek started. “With your help, I am now only one challenge away from finding my prince. Please do not ask me to wait longer than I have to.”

“Have you not waited long enough?” Yuri said, a cold edge to his voice. Otabek shrank away from it.

“What do you want from me, then?” Otabek said, but he did not feel the fight behind the words. He sank to the ground with a sigh, and felt the cat nudge his hand with his head. He moved to stroke the cat’s ears.

“I am sorry,” Yuri said. “I am used to the company of cats; it does not breed manners.”

 Otabek chuckled softly. “Do all cats talk in this realm?”

“No.”

“Then why you…?” Otabek thought back to Yuuri’s soft smile, light in the chilly halls of Victor’s castle. “Oh.”

“Have you figured it out then?”

 Yuri pulled away from him, and Otabek felt the chill at his back.

“I am the Prince of Cats.”

Otabek startled up, searching for Yuri in the darkness that had fallen swiftly around them, but could not see the white cat. “You? You took Prince Yurochka? _Cursed_ him?”

For a moment, it was silent, and then Otabek heard the reply: “I did.”

Otabek felt the snarl curl his lips. “I do not need your help for the next challenge, _cat._ I don’t need someone who will hide in the shadows like a coward, taking children from their loved ones.”

He rushed past the gates before Yuri could approach him once more, right into the hall of the Fair King.  

Throwing the walnut on the ground, he crushed it violently with the heel of his boot. Instead of the handkerchief he was expecting, there was naught but a hazelnut. Cursing wildly and crushing that, Otabek found only a cherry pit.

Victor raised a slender eyebrow at Otabek’s increasing anger, and picturing the little white cat laughing at him back in the forest, ruining Otabek’s life one last time, he smashed open the cherry pit—the smallest kernel of corn remained on the stark white floor.

Otabek knelt to retrieve it and cradled it in his palm, biting back hot tears. He felt like a fool for every placing his trust in such a strange creature—but beyond that, he felt like a fool for thinking he could retrieve his prince after all these years, for thinking he could make up his betrayal in this way.

He broke the kernel. A grain of wheat. He broke the grain of wheat—a millet seed.

“White Cat,” he said. “Oh, Prince of Cats. Are you making fun of me?”

He felt something brush against his leg and looked down wildly, but there was nothing there. Bringing the millet seed to his teeth, he bit down on it, and when he held the cracked seed in his hands, he saw the edge of a thread. Pulling at it, he found that he suddenly held a beautifully woven handkerchief, embroidered with every scope of color he had ever seen.

“An excellent gift,” Victor said, and Yuuri took it carefully from Otabek’s hands and passed the entire handkerchief through the eye of a needle, with room to spare. Victor clapped his hands and kissed Yuuri gently as he took it from him; Otabek glanced away.

“Now,” Victor said. “Are you ready for the final challenge?”

Otabek nodded sullenly, looking back at the king. In his hands, he held a sword— _Otabek’s_ sword. Victor tossed it to him and Otabek caught it easily, the weight of the scabbard like the sensation of coming home. He raised his gaze to inquire about the sword, but before he could, the king issued his challenge:

“I need you to bring me the head of the Prince of Cats.”

-✽-

Otabek wandered back to the gates in a daze, his mind whirring. He approached the heavily gilded, glistening gates and placed his hand on the cold steel, shivering at the sensation. Beyond, he wondered if Yuri was still there.

Before leaving the castle, Otabek had seen Yuuri—Victor’s Yuuri—share a laugh with Victor, another small kiss. Something simple, but something that Otabek had such little experience with. Growing up with the prince had been unforgettable, but growing old on the road had done a lot to erase his happiness.

He hadn’t had a partner in a long time. Perhaps that was why he had taken Yuri’s betrayal so hard.

Could he really kill him, though? Otabek thought back to the joy of solving that first challenge, his gratitude for Yuri’s help. He quickly shook off the feeling.

It had not been Yuri helping him—it had been the Prince of Cats, mocking him for trying to win back the very person he had stolen in the first place. Otabek felt sick.

And all those questions about Otabek’s prince? Calling him… calling him “ _Beka_?”

Otabek swung open the gates and drew his sword. “White Cat,” he called. “Prince of Cats.”

“I am here,” a voice said above him. “But what are you going to do with that?”

He was in the _trees_. Otabek swore and scanned them, but the pitch of night was still shielding Yuri from his sight.

“It is the third challenge. I am to bring Victor your head.”

“Well,” Yuri said, and suddenly the white cat materialized before him. “What a coincidence.”

Otabek was too shocked for a moment to swing. “What?”

“I was going to ask you for the same thing.” Yuri sat still. “My head.”

The frustration of everything caught up to Otabek once more, and he sank to his knees, dropping the sword. “Why?”

“You owe me a favor.”

“Why me?” Otabek brought his hands to his face.

“Because I offered my help—”

“But _why me_?”

“Why,” the white cat said. “Because you are beloved to me.”

Otabek shot his head up. “No.”

“Didn’t you wonder how I knew you, Beka?”

“I… You heard me in my sleep.”

“I did not. I’m just a rather good liar.” The cat was approaching him, but Otabek would not have it. He fell backwards and scrambled to get away.

“You are not him. You—you _took him_.”

“It is true. The Prince of Cats took Prince Yurochka. Or rather… I took his place.”

Yuri’s golden eyes flashed and that was when Otabek saw it—the gray of a soldier’s steel, just beyond the gold. His heart flooded with emotion.

“It is you.”

“It is I. _Beka_ —”

“I can’t…” Otabek’s worldview had shifted, but some inner part of him screamed, _You should have known._ He had known his prince was in this world, but he hadn’t known he was at his side this whole time.

“Your name—” He started, and Yuri sighed.

“I gave it up when I assumed this mantle.”

“The Prince of Cats?”

Yuri hesitated, and Otabek allowed himself to breath. “Why did you do it?” he asked.

“You know why.”

“You left… everyone.” He didn’t say, _You left me_.

“Take the sword,” Yuri said. “Let it be done.”

“Not until I have answers,” Otabek said. But Yuri—his prince—said nothing.

“Do as I say, please—”

“My prince—”

“Now!” And the sword was in Otabek’s hand, and it shook violently, and before he knew it, it had happened. 

“No,” he cried, before he collapsed once more. Behind him, the gates opened.

 _I will grant you this_ , a voice said, and then everything went white.

-✽-

“Why do you cry, child?”

Otabek rounded the corner—he had not done this back then. This was new.

“Y-You can talk?” The prince’s shocked voice— _Yuri’s_ voice. He heard it now.

Before him, his little black cat, head tilted with concern.

“I can, my friend. But the true question is how can I help you?”

“You want to help me?” The prince’s cries were now sniffles. Otabek’s heart broke again, remembering what had caused his pain.

“I do. My dear Yurochka… do you remember what you once told me?”

“N-No.”

“You said… why, you said you wished to be a cat.”

“Oh. Oh, I suppose I did. But it’s impossible.”

“It is not. And Yurochka, what if I told you… you could still have a kingdom? And all of your subjects, they would love you without caring what you did for them. In fact, you could play with them all day! How does that sound?”

“It sounds… nice.”

“Doesn’t it just.” The cat was circling him now, and Otabek tried to cry out, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“But…”

“Yes?”

“What about… Beka? Could he come with me?”

“I’m afraid not, child. You see, if the knight were to find you there, he would kill you.”

“He wouldn’t!” The prince’s voice shook—he didn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. Otabek wondered at how it had ever come to this.

“He would have to kill you, if you ever wanted to be together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright; he will explain it better than I can.”

“Who is he?”

“The one who wants you to take his throne.” The cat stilled. “My dear child, you rescued me when I was destined to be a simple ratter, gave me a life I never dreamed of. I only want the same for you. Do you want to be happy?”

Yuri didn’t answer… but he nodded. He nodded, and then, he was gone.

-✽-

“Altin,”

Otabek smelled the flowers first, and knew where he was before he even opened his eyes.

When he did, he regretted it instantly. Yakov stood over him, it was true, but so did several members of the king’s guard. Many of them were boys he had grown up alongside, before he left to serve the prince alone.

“Hello,” he said, and then someone grabbed his arm, hauling him up roughly.

“Otabek Altin,” one of the guards said. “We have found you accountable for the death of our Prince Yurochka, five years ago.”

“You’re a bastard for ever coming back,” another said. “And now you’re going to die for it.”

“I am sorry,” Yakov said. “The king has no knowledge of this, but once I am able to see him—”

“No,” Otabek said. “No. I confess.”

“You… what?”

“Has the prince returned?”

 “No…”

Otabek’s heart seized at the confirmation of his failure, though he had known from the second the sword had sliced through the air that the prince was never going to come back.

“Then I confess. I murdered Prince Yurochka.”

It was then that Otabek realized the crowd was much larger than he had seen at first glance—nearly the entire court was present. They exchanged shocked murmurs as Otabek was led past them. There was no backtracking now; though, he found he did not want to. He had spilled blood, and he would need to pay.  

He was shoved rather roughly into a cell block, one of the few the palace had rarely needed to use. It had always been a peaceful kingdom. Otabek’s execution would probably be the most recent in years.

He slept fitfully that night; he did not dream. In the morning, they came to collect him, and he was brought before King Nikolai.

“My son,” the king said, and Otabek hung his head low. He had never deserved the kindness of this king.

“I tried,” he simply said. Then; “I failed.”

He barely registered King Nikolai’s attempts to delay the execution, but he knew the court’s replies.

By noon, he had been led out into the courtyard, down the paved corridor that had not been there when he and the prince were children. He was facing the rose garden.

They brought him low, tied his hands behind his back, and as Otabek knelt, he thought he heard a familiar cry. Then:

“It is the prince! The prince has returned to us!”

Shouts resounded through the courtyard, and Otabek thought that if he could only look up, perhaps he could see that he had been useful after all. Before he did, however, slender fingers curled around his jaw and carefully moved his head up.

“Untie this man,” a strong voice said—Yuri’s strong voice, Prince Yurochka, _his_ prince. Older now, and still beautiful. The sight brought tears to Otabek’s eyes.

“Yuri,” Otabek said with wonder, and then flushed.

“It’s alright,” the prince said, a red flush on his own cheeks. “I am not the boy you once knew. You may call me that, if you wish.”

Otabek smiled and curled into Yuri. “I wish it.”

Otabek was quickly untied and the court broke out to rejoice their prince’s return, Otabek’s crimes forgotten with the return of his supposed victim. Yuri embraced his grandfather, who was chuckling rather robustly, while Otabek watched calmly on.

Finally, things were right again. He turned to seek his new path.

“Where are you going?”

Fingers found his wrist, grasped it tenderly, and pulled. Otabek looked back and found Yuri watching him, waiting.

“You grew up,” he said instead. Yuri grimaced.

“I didn’t want to. But it seems even cats age eventually.”

“Even the ones who talk, huh?”

A laugh, a beautiful sound. Otabek inched closer.

“Yuri,” he said. “I am so sorry.”

“You know,” Yuri said. “I _really_ don’t want to talk about it.

He reached for Yuri’s soft cheek, brushed a strand of hair away. Golden yellow with a tint of silvery shimmer. They were less than an inch apart from each other now, and Otabek felt only love in his heart.

“I—” He started.

“I love you!” Yuri said, his face a flurry of emotions. Otabek pressed forward and his lips found Yuri’s. And it was in that moment his prince wholly returned to him.

_And the beautiful White Cat was immortalized as much by his goodness and generosity as he was by his rare merit and beauty._

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately tried to create a romance that took time and it still feels rushed... I suppose that's what the fairy tale structure does. Something to work on for the next time I suppose!
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> The final line is a modified version of the final line from Madame D'Aulnoy's version of "The White Cat."
> 
> The first two challenges are straight from the story; the result of the last has been slightly modified, but is essentially from the story as well. Everything about the fairy realm is taken from folklore, but is not in the original tale. I hope the modifications made sense, and if you are interested in the original "The White Cat," I would recommend it!
> 
> "Wan-wan" is the Japanese equivalent of "Bow-wow" and the like, which is the original line in Lang's version of the tale.
> 
> I do hope Victor didn't come off as too annoying; believe me, the king in the original tale is much worse.
> 
> Finally, I kept the ages the same as they were in the anime, with the meeting at the training camp as the equivalent of their childhood together, and I kept their reunion ages the same as well. I know it seems silly for children to profess their love to each other, but at that age it was more about friendship, and in the forever-unwritten epilogue for this you can imagine they will take the time to develop their romantic love more. Ultimately, I love declarations of love in any form, and it definitely contributes to the fairy tale quality of the story.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, I would greatly appreciate it!


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